A Hawke's Sight
by redvsblue
Summary: The Champion of Kirkwall - Torn by loss and fatigue. Who, or what can possibly stir this non-chalant hero back into the path of jovialty and what will stand in her way? R&R At your leisure. No-longer a Two-Shot.
1. Chapter 1

Author s Note: I don t own anything but the fic , characters etc. all belong to Bioware or whoever s got the copyrights.

Also, to those who actually LIKE reading my stuff (I m surprised if you do also touched) this is just something to dish out while I m looking for inspiration on the Void of Locke.

The night it was so calming, so serene. A deceptive shroud, masking the crime, the cruelty and the violence that took place in the darkest corners of Kirkwall. But to Marian Hawke, the Champion of this city, it was these hours that she could truly find peace with herself. Lately, not even the quiet of the night could calm her aching heart. Her heart was torn, wounded far too many times to heal. She was huddled on the balcony of her estate, sitting with her back against the cold stone wall, her knees hugged tight to her chest. She was crying, and she couldn t help it, her sobs muffled, her tears wiped, but they would not relent. There was simply too much for her to bear. The visage of carelessness, her non-chalant demeanor where all meant to hide what pained her day and night. Something grim was coming, she felt. Something that would shake Thedas down to it s very foundations. She felt so afraid, like she would lose even more of what little she had left. No, a feeling would not describe what ran through her being - a certainty, more like. She knew something would be taken from her once again.

Carver...her little brother the young boy she would tease day-in, day-out, the one sibling she rarely told just how much she loved. She regretted, and she blamed herself for his death, for so many words, unspoken. She had felt it, back then. The near hostility with which he held himself, the strain of his jaw and the grit of his teeth when she was near. She knew she had spurred much ambition within him. She was always the eldest, and strongest. She wielded a blade better than him and she would always best him in their jibes, always the one coming on top when exchanging witty remarks. He wanted to be better than her, he wanted to show her he wasn't "Stunty Carver" anymore. The grieving woman struck the wall behind her, gritting her teeth and crying out in pain. Pain jolting through her, it s beginnings: at her heart. Carver never had to prove anything to her, she already knew he would become better than her if only he had lived. She had only once ever told him that she loved him, a mistake that she did not do it often, a grave one as she saw it. He had gotten into a fight with a bigger lad, and had come out on top, he was covered in bruises and his nose hurt. He had won, but he was crying, he was in pain. That was a rare moment, when she would not tease him, nor would she jest. She would simply hold him tightly and whisper "I love you, brother, please don t cry".

Bethany when she was first taken to the Gallows, the worry she felt was unbearable. She wanted nothing more than to storm the heart of the Templars' power in Kirkwall and free her by force, but she wouldn t want that, would she? The danger of her being made tranquil, or framed of using Blood Magic, or even something as simple as an accident with a spell from one of her apprentices, it all made her heartstrings twist. She longed to see her sister again, to chatter and giggle about courtship and would-be suitors. Alas, she feared with the coming storm, mayhap those moments would never again lighten up her day.

Mother...the loss of her mother kept her awake, crying through many a night. How could one person bare this alone, how could she retain her sanity without her loved ones. She was the Champion: she had faced dragons, bested the qunari s greatest warrior: The Arishok and had vanquished demons of all shapes and sizes but everyone failed to realize that she was, in the end, only human. Mostly everyone. However she found sympathy in surprising places. Cullen, the knight-captain of the templars, for instance. From what little time she would have to speak with him, she would find much wisdom in him, and much compassion. He was a good man, she thought, and he understood her. Mayhap, he had felt such pain himself? It would explain the fear and anger in his eyes in the presence of mages, a sight not so strange for Kirkwaller-templars, though his she knew something much worse than Meredith's regime had spurred this emotion.

Her companions...they all had something hidden underneath the surface, and they all understood just what she was going through right now. Even Fenris had lowered his broody demeanor to offer his sympathies, even if they where clumsily worded. It touched her to know that even despite how much she tried to oppose and convince him there was a better way to handle mages, he would still see her as a friend.

Her musing was interrupted by a knock on the front door. She wondered, for a moment who it could be at this hour, in the middle of the night. She sighed in exhaustion, as sleep clawed at her half-lidded eyes, but would remain just out of reach, no matter how hard she tried to find rest. She slowly pushed herself up to her feet and felt a sudden jolt of warmth run through her as her blood began flowing faster again. How long had she been sitting here, she pondered, whilst heading into the second floor, then down the stairwell with the vulgar "art" , courtesy of Isabela. She looked to the side at Bodahn's sacks and chests, and Sandal's little box, she smiled, hearing the huffing and panting of the last member of her family still with her. Her ever-faithful mabari: Duncan. She smiled briefly at him, as his legs kicked this way and that in his sleep.

Eventually, she would reach the door and rubbing her eyes she would grasp the handle and push. With a subtle squeak the etched and reinforced wooden door would swing open. Outside, however, no one stood. She peeked outside and glanced about, the streets where empty, naught but a black cat slowly slinking into an alley. She remained there for a while longer, lost in thought again, before she felt a chill wind on her face. She shivered, just now being reminded how cold it is outside. She pulled the door back and shut it gently, so as not to wake the others. She walked back, and her eyes rested on Duncan, a joyful memory creeping into her mind as she would recall the day her father would carry the little pup home and present it to her.

"Happy birthday, sunshine." He said in his deep, compassionate voice. She recalled what a kind man he was."Lets see if he ll imprint on you." And as luck would have it, the pup would take a liking to his new owner quite quickly. She recalled fondly the nights after when she would sleep, curled up next to her loyal hound. "We'll call him Duncan. I met a great man by that name once, this one has greatness written on his nose, I'd say, don t you boy?" She felt her eyes water again as she remembered her father, she wiped away the moisture, and on a whim, she simply walked over to Duncan s rug and lied down, curling up next to him. She felt stupid for a moment, but few things could shake her jaded mind, now. She fell asleep soon after, exhaustion finally making way for slumber.

The next day, she would awake to a jolly mabari's horrible breath and loud barking. She would squint her eyes and struggle to focus before she would see him hopping about her, wagging his stubby tail to and fro. She chuckled lightly and rose to her feet, straightening out the finery she wore, and arching her back to hear a few pops. Sleeping on the ground was not as good an idea as one would think. She petted her dog and sauntered off to the kitchen with him hot on her heels. He had been her savior from yet another sleepless night, which warranted a treat. She got his favorite: a double-baked mabari crunch with a nice addition of a slice of dried meat. She considered that would occupy him for a few moments. She left them in his engraved bowl, and soon he would lose attention from his beloved owner, to dedicate himself to the consumption of his well-deserved treat.

Marian glanced at the various plates and padding that lay scattered about the mats in the foyer. She had returned long after Bodahn had went to sleep and she had dispensed of them there. She sighed simply, she wouldn t bother. Today she was not going to adventure. She made her way toward the former viscount s gardens. Off-limits as they still were, with even more guards, now that Meredith had tightened her defenses even further. Still, they would move aside, she knew. She was the Champion, after all. As she expected the guards bowed and spoke their praise, then stepped away. She smiled at them and passed through and was met with the sound of birds chirping cheerfully from the treetops. The garden was well-taken care of, even after Dumar's death. Her mind was drawn to the tragedy of Marlowe, grieving father and bearer of a heavy crown, of how his son was slain. She shook her head, she didn t want to think on it as her mind was strained enough with her own problems. She simply found a patch of grass, under an old oak and simply laid down. She closed her eyes and simply listened to the birds song. She hummed along to their cheerful tune, her voice untrained, but just as gentle.  
>She simply added to the melody and found herself smiling contentedly, even happily as she slowly opened her eyes. The bushes shuffled close by "Curious...", she thought as she turned her head to see the noisy bush. It made a decent attempt at staying still, but the constant shuffling and the quiet, frantic murmurs emanating from the shrub gave it an air of suspiciousness that simply could not be overlooked.<p>

The Champion slowly rose to her feet again and with measured steps, she approached the twitchy shrub. Not two steps away, with a gasp and a tumble, an elf would pop out of the shrub at her feet. It was a familiar elf, even though the familiarity was covered in leafy circlets adorned with flowers and matching bracelets and many other naturistic jewelry, she could not mistake the intricate tattoos that swirled over the elf s visage, nor could she ever mistake those eyes. Large, green eyes that looked as if they have nothing but compassion for the world. The elf was blushing, and had stood up half-way onto her hands and knees.

"Merrill..?" Marian started and blinked a few times, pondering how to continue. "Fancy meeting you here." She smiled, something that came easily to her with this particular elf around.

"Um...Hawke!" the elf stumbled and quickly got all the way back up, brushing herself off and shuffling her feet, appearing quite bashful. "I was just passing through on my way back home and I just wanted to see these gardens again, even though Aveline told me not to, but I really like it here so I just had to come by and...oh, sorry, I'm doing it again, aren t I?" Merrill would chuckle sheepishly as she babbled for a moment, something Marian found even more endearing than usual.

"That s fine...though I would like to know why you where in the bushes. Spying on me now? I wonder who paid you to do so.." Marian tapped her chin in mock-pondering, though she couldn't help but smirk to herself somewhat.

Merrill on the other hand started waving her arms about."No, no! I would never spy on you!"she stammered then blushed for a moment as it occurred to her that her friend was jesting yet again. "Well not because someone paid me for it, anyway."The blush on her cheeks would redden for a moment, adding to her bashful appearance.

Marian laughed then, a contented laughter that was heard on rarer and rarer occasions recently."Oh, Merrill." She said simply with warmth in her voice "Well, the guards let me in here, though I am certain they had their heads bowed close enough to the ground to see only one pair of feet. And those had shoes on." She mused and simply let her eyes roam over Merrill s face, which became more and more red with every moment.

"Is...is there something on my face?" she raised a slender hand up to her face, touching her cheek. She was surprised by the warmth she felt there, the light-hearted chuckle she earned from her friend just made it a touch warmer still.

"No, no, you silly girl." Marian began with a playful tone, though her voice grew less jovial as she continued. "Say, Merrill how about you come over to the estate? We could just have a drink, or a bite to eat, if you like. I could use the company, with all that's happened lately..." she found herself allowing the sadness in her voice be heard "It's been terribly quiet there." Her eyes had fallen downcast, but she soon felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a soothing voice replying:

"Sure, Hawke let's go."It came and the weary Champion would look up to see the warm smile of her friend greeting her. It seemed to be contagious as she soon felt herself smiling as well.

Neither of them realized they had simply been standing like that for a few minutes, though the call of a guard and his heavy footsteps approaching broke their concentration. They both looked to the side at the marching man, and he did not look too pleased.

"Messere, is this pleb bothering you? I thank you for finding this street-rat, at your leave I will have her thrown into the brig!" he stated, standing to attention before the Champion.

Marian did not know just why his statement had sparked that much aggression within her, but for some reason, she felt the need to settle this with less grace. "Listen carefully, soldier." she started, taking a step toward him and turning to face him fully, she leaned forward somewhat and the sunlight fell on her face between the branches of the nearby trees, illuminating the scar over her nose. "Should you ever feel the need to call one of my friends a pleb or a street-rat again, I advise you strongly to pray to whatever god you can dream up that I'm not in the mood for cutting out your squishy bits and feeding them to my hound." She snarled at the man taking a challenging step toward him, she even surprised herself it even worried her how certain she sounded of her own words. "Is that clear?"

The soldier's eyes where wide-open and full of shock, he stuttered and fumbled for words and simply muttered out a "yes" , soon after turning about and hurrying back to his post. Marian rubbed her forehead in frustration and the elf looked no-less convinced than the guardsman for a short instant, long enough, however which sadly did nothing to soften the frown forming on Marian s lips.  
>"That that was...Hawke, I didn't know you could sound so scary." She murmured, her head tilted to one side and looking incredulously at the Champion.<p>

The weariness and hurt crept their way into Marian's face and she simply began walking forth, making a gesture for Merrill to follow with her hand and slowly made her way. The slightly confused Merrill followed close behind, countless questions in her mind, not daring to break the odd silence that accompanied them all the way through the street, past the corridors and halls and into the kitchen of the Amell estate. There , the Champion swiftly found a bottle of old wine and pressed her thumb onto the cork stopper, forcing it down into the wine with a few swift pushes. She took a generous swig, sighing softly and holding out the bottle to Merrill. The elf slowly took it, looking at her rather flatly all the time, whilst slowly tipping the bottle back, though the question that followed almost sent the wine back into the bottle and onto the floor:

"Merrill, are you afraid of me?"

And what may follow? Who can say, though my muse may choose not to be predictable this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Read and Review at your leisure, most importantly, enjoy!

Author's Note is at the bottom , lads!

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><p>The question that had been asked hung in the air, permeating it with anxiety and confusion - respectively Hawke's and Merrill's. The young elf tilted her head to the side, looking quizzically at her friend, though she found no answer in her eyes as they stared absently at the ground. She pondered for just a moment, before simply speaking out in her incredulous voice:<p>

"I don't think so, no. Well, you can be scary when you get angry at people, you know...the bad people. Well, not so scary to me, more so to them, but it makes me wish I never have to be in their place. I shouldn't be afraid, should I? It feels odd that I'd be afraid of you, you've been nothing but a dearest friend to me...oh, Creators I'm rambling again..." She rubbed her forehead for a moment, before she looked worriedly at Hawke and continued in a softer tone "Is everything alright, Hawke?" she asked.

The woman before her slowly shook her head, heaving a heavy sigh along with the lazy motion. She took yet another swig of the wine and looked up slowly, her eyes focusing on Merrill after a brief moment.

"No, Merrill...nothing is alright." she responded in a morbid voice, her throat ached and she felt a need to let out something, though not a word...just a sound. And so she let it, and all she did was sob. Her shoulders sagged and she gritted her teeth, her form tensing as she tried not to shake.

"I'm sorry..." Hawke started, clutching the bottle hard enough that her knuckles went white. She closed her eyes shut to keep herself from shedding tears. She soon felt a pair of slender, cold hands grasp her own. The grieving woman slowly opened her reddening eyes to be met with two worried green ones. Hawke slapped herself mentally, she had always disliked showing her troubles, the fewer people worried, the better it was, as she thought. Though she couldn't help but want to reveal everything to those honest eyes. There was a strange innocence to Merrill she trusted more than anyone else. The silence was deafening, as apparently the one before her had no words to try and comfort her friend.

"I'm sorry, Merrill...I shouldn't trouble you with this. It's...it's nothing..." Hawke tried to wave it off thus, forcing a smile and trying her best to keep her voice steady. "Besides, I don't want you to see me become another Fenris, that'd be horrid." she tried to deflect the matter further by adding a jovial note to her slightly trembling words.

She was met with a deep frown, the gentle, cold hands releasing hers and gleaming emeralds looking away. A murmur followed, just loud enough to hear.

"If there's anything I can do, Hawke...just let me know. You know I'd try my best to help." the elf spoke.

The human before her let out yet another sigh, and she reached up and rubbed at her temple, however losing track of the bottle she held in her hand, it slipped from her grasp and plummeted to the ground. The well-aged liquid spilled everywhere, and the glass shattered against the polished stone beneath it easily. Merrill's legs where covered in tough leather...however the finery Hawke wore did little to shield her knees and thighs from stray shards flying into her skin. She winced as she felt shards puncturing her skin. She winced somewhat and gritted her teeth, letting out a grunt and slowly looking down at her leg. Her eyes squinted as she saw several dark-red streams flowing down her skin. Marian sighed shakily, just more scars to add to her collection. She slowly diverted her attention back up to Merrill, who was staring at her injury in shock, hands covering her mouth as she gasped.

"Oh, dear, Hawke! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, this is my fault, isn't it, oh Creators you're bleeding!" she stammered and slowly dropped to her knees, sweeping away the remains of the bottle. She examined the wound, hands reaching out but not touching the skin. Hawke simply sighed and dropped to one knee, speaking calmly.

"I'm fine, Merrill, it's not your fault. I'm just...feeling light-headed today. Just help me find some bandages." she shrugged simply, wincing a bit as Merrill pulled out a shard from her flesh. "Right...I forgot this is why it felt good NOT to be on the receiving end of a breaking bottle." she muttered and clenched her teeth, waiting for more to be pulled out.

After a long, arduous process of extracting pieces of glass, Merrill brought her hands steadily over Marian's injured leg. She focused mana into her palms and fingertips and projected it toward the cuts. She was never very good at healing magic, but things like this where within her capabilities. Within minutes not even scars where left. Merrill craned her neck to look up at Hawke, and was met with a patient, if a bit vacant stare, as well as the smallest of smiles she had ever seen on the Champion's lips.

"Thank you, Merrill. You're so sweet." the smile grew a bit wider and Hawke moved to stand. "The maid and Bodahn will clean this up, don't worry...though now I have to change, don't I...? Funny how no one minds us covered in blood when we're in armor and hold big, sharp things." she forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, though she could not help but be cut short by the particularly worried look Merrill was giving her. She coughed a few times into her fist, feeling awkward at that point. "I'll be right back, Merrill." she muttered and slowly walked off, testing her healed leg for a few steps before doubling her pace.

Merrill was left there with her thoughts, and her mind raced. Even after six years of living in Kirkwall, she couldn't fully understand some things the humans did, less so with Hawke. Her mind flipped through many memories of the time she had spent with Hawke. She always knew her as easy-going, even in the face of danger. She had always done the right thing, even if Merrill didn't always agree with her. Hawke was the kind of friend to her, that did what's best even if she was hated for it. And at times Merrill did feel angry with her, hurt even. When she refused to give her the carving knife so she could finish the Eluvian, she was close to tears, but later she would find out that yet again, her friend was right to do so. The demon had used her, she felt so foolish, so afraid, and after Marethari's death she was heartbroken. The woman who had been like a mother to her since she left her parents was gone and it was all her fault. She still remembered how she ran out of the cave, tears flowing down her cheeks, only to be met by several arrows aimed at her, trained perfectly. She closed her eyes tightly, and awaited...but nothing came. She slowly opened her teary eyes to behold her protector: Hawke, clad still in the dented, singed and worn armor she had fought the demon in, standing with her arms outstretched defensively in front of the firing line her clan had made. She was too overwhelmed to listen to what they spoke, she simply watched her clan yell at Hawke, anger flaring in their eyes, and Hawke yelling back at them. At that moment she expected them both to be killed, but to her greatest surprise she heard Terath instead say..

"You're right, Hawke...take Merrill, and leave our clan. Never return, ever, or we will not be so merciful." she saw all the hatred, and all the sorrow they looked upon her with. She knew the sorrow was not for her, but for the Keeper. She hung her head and walked in step after Hawke.

Hawke had left her in her hovel, where Merrill cried herself to sleep until the next day, she looked upon the dagger she had used in blood magic for a long time with desire...a desire to end it all. But fate would not let Merrill have her torment end without one, last visitor. It made things even more difficult when she found it was Hawke at her door, smiling reassuringly as always. She did not have the heart to send her off, even as she was resolute to end her life.

"I just wanted to see if you're alright , Merrill." she sat at her little bench with Hawke, though she mostly looked down at the dusty floorboards. "I am sorry...I am sorry I couldn't do anything for Marethari." Merrill felt a rough, yet gentle hand grasp her own. She felt once again, the warmth of tears down her cheeks as she looked up to Hawke.

"My clan...they despise me...I'm alone now, Hawke, none of the Dalish will ever take me back after this." the young Pariah stammered out, shortly after being pulled into the first embrace she had felt in a long, long time. Hawke was gentle, she was cradled in the strong woman's arms and she could not keep herself from hugging her friend back.

"It's not your fault, Merrill." she heard Hawke say, and even though she knew otherwise, none could overlook the certainty in her voice. "And you're not alone. You have all your friends here. We're all here for you...I, am here for you." few events in Merrill's life had shaken her emotions thus. Tamlen's death, and Mahariel's departure, where the last things she could remember, that made her feel so many different things at once. So many feelings that made her feel regret above all else. There where so many things left unspoken when her only real friend was taken from the clan.

Merrill hadn't reacted to a returned Hawke's calls, which earned her a prod in the gut. Startled she blinked her eyes a few times, before focusing on Hawke again. She wore a similar set of finery, though this one had a more blue tinge to it. She had a tired expression, but a welcoming warmth dwelt on her smile. It reminded her of Mahariel, in a way.

"Merrill, I like watching you space out almost as much as Isabella, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to be standing around bare-foot in broken glass." Hawke chided, and took the dazed elf's hand leading her from the kitchen to the common room.

"Only a little?" Merrill pitched in when her mind was in the present. Feeling a bit of warmth in her face, she rubbed her cheek bashfully, which earned her a light chuckle from her companion.

Not a moment after the door was opened, an awoken and cheerful mabari tackled it's owner to the ground, proceeding to nuzzle and lap at her face. Soon followed the flippantly dressed Bodahn, a jolly smile spread across his bearded face.

"Good day, messeres. I do hope your day is going as well as serah Duncan's. There was a rather strange letter for you , messere Hawke, I left it on your writing desk as usual. Is there anything you needed, the estate's staff as well as my boy and I are at your disposal." he recited with his usual high-spirited voice, bowing low. It was almost inspiring to Hawke and her companions, how loyal the dwarf was.

"We broke a bottle of wine in the kitchen, if you could take care of that, it'd be lovely. I'd hate to have to go and fetch Anders, we have enough food for the fire even without his manifestos...manifestae...whatever." Hawke shrugged simply, a reflex she had developped over the years when her witty remarks didn't quite make her look witty enough."

Bodahn made his usual flourishing bow, lately done more stiffly, as he complained of his advancing age, and he walked off to call one of the maidservants.

"Oh, I always forget how big your house is...I've gotten lost here sometimes when I come visit." Merrill said as she looked up at the walls, eliciting another, more earnest chuckle from Hawke.

The lady of the house made her way in a languid step toward the writing desk. She felt much higher in spirits now, even with the looming threat of violent conflict between the Templars and the Circle, all the bribes she had to pay, and sometimes : still has to pay, to remove any and all evidence of Isabella's involvement with the Qunari incident, and of course, the loss of her family. Anders' increasingly grim demeanor of late did little to ease her mind either. She reached her writing desk, still cluttered with various notes all somewhat similar, she smiled as she heard Merrill playing with Duncan somewhere behind her. She spotted a curious letter among the identical ones, one with black paper, and a light azure wax seal with the image of infinity. She found it rather peculiar, and took the letter opener on the desk. Cutting open the envelope carefully, pulling out the letter itself. It was clearly paper, though it was also black, with the same azure coloured ink. The handwriting was definitely intricate, the work of a nobleman no doubt. After straining her eyes for a long moment, she proceeded to read.

Respected Mistress of the Amell household,

It has come to our attention that the tensions of Kirkwall are in no small part  
>related to yourself and your interesting entourage. We are curious if you would<br>part with a few brief moments of your time to give us an interview (not to be  
>mistaken for interrogation) with your various vassalspartners and adventuring  
>companions, so as to give us an insight into your recent dealings within Kirkwall<br>and it's surroundings.

This matter is strictly connected to your adventures within and without Kirkwall's  
>viscinity. All politics and ties to such would be "left at the door" should you wish to<br>indulge our curiosity.

As for the nature of our interview, and some details as to who "we" are:  
>We are Maelen Arshby Ledmark and Coleman Olbren Ledmark "Morbid H",<br>the future co-writers of a book about namely yourself. More specifically,  
>your Deep Roads expedition,the rumors of a Dragon in a mine co-owned<br>by yourself, and your part in overthrowing the Qunari invasion on our  
>beloved city. The book andor books we plan to write are an Epic Adventuring  
>Trilogy, following the events of the above mentioned exploits, and should you<br>agree to it: a detailed Biography of yourself, and your companions.

We have enclosed a detailed description of where we will be situated  
>should you wish to pursue this endeavor. We already have a sufficient<br>budget and are more than ready to produce several hundred copies of  
>any works we would compose. We are eager to discuss details in person<br>with you and your companions.

Best wishes,

Maelen and Coleman Ledmark

She read through the letter slowly, noting the multiple uses of "yourself" and the curious nickname of the second brother, as she assumed. Though what caused her suspicion to rear it's head was the line in which the letter mentions the Bone Pit. She had asked Hubert to keep her involvement silent. She found this quite curious as well. It would only be fair to slip away from the stress, and tell someone of all the adventures, likely everyone would have a point of view and something to add if she brought them along. She looked up the folded map of Hightown that was enclosed, and spotted a grim sight. The directions led to the same abandoned mansion where she and Varic found Bartrand, crazed and surrounded by demons. This warranted even further investigation now. She felt compelled to go. She looked up from the desk, back at Merrill and Duncan. They where playing fetch with one of Sandal's enchantments, which would've struck a worrisome nerve, had it not touched her to see the sight. She left the letter on the desk and ran over to them, scolding them playfully before joining in their game. The rest of the world would wait for a few hours.

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><p>Author's Note: Well, Forgotten Realms Daggerdale dashed all hope ole RVB had for a proper DnD game in this day and age. As a real fan of the franchise for quite a few years now, especially the Forgotten Realms setting, I was simply mortified at how that game sucked. Also 4th Edition Rules suck the most, all you other nerds out there know what I'm talking about! Anyway, Void of Locke is discontinued until someone brings Quality back to my understanding of DnD. Which may be never. So , this story is moving from a Two-Shot - To my active, working project.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Own little of what is put into the story here in means of characters etc..

Author's Note: Read and Review at your leisure, and most importantly: Enjoy!

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><p>The simple things in life are not what give people joy, but they sustain it non-the-less. They also remind us all of the joy we've felt before, and help us forget our worries even for a brief moment in time. There is nothing quite like playing fetch with one's dearest friend and one's old mabari hound. Such leisurely moments where few and far between for the Champion, so she planned to enjoy this one time she had the chance. Even those with the best intentions, are allowed no more time to catch their breath, before they ran again, chasing fate. Marian Hawke had even less stops in the wild chase. She had learned to cherish these moments, and hold them close. However, like so many leaders, Marian hid something behind her non-chalant demeanor and care-free mannerisms. She hid a valiant heart that only those closest to her could truly understand. But like so many things, all that's good must come to an end, and so when Duncan suddenly began ignoring the game and went to his favourite fireplace to lie down, the game ended, leaving two laughing women.<p>

Finally settling down from her bout of laughs, Hawke approached her tired hound and sat next to him. She began petting him gently.

"Good ole Duncan." she said warmly as she smiled down at the hound "Poor guy's getting on in years, though. He's not as spry as he used to be." For a moment, Duncan looked up and cocked his head to the side, whining out and making big eyes at Hawke the way only dogs and elves can. After a moment, she ruffled his fur and said in an endearing voice "You're still the most adorable puppy ever!"

It earned her a pleased set of barks from the hound, before he simply laid down and closed his eyes. Marian continued to pet him, looking wistful for a moment before looking up at Merrill who had approached and sat next to her.

"He's an old dog now, Merrill...he wont be around for many years longer, I imagine. I guess that'll leave just two Amells...one a prisoner, the other just as jaded...and no less imprisoned." she spoke quietly, with a deep frown set on her face.

Merrill reached down and placed her hand over Hawke's, grasping it gently. "Maybe, but you're hardly alone, you know. All your friends love you, and so do I." she spoke, again, her cheeks becoming a little rosy.

"Why do I get the feeling we've had this kind of conversation before...?" Hawke responded jokingly. "I know it , Merrill, and I'm glad." Marian grasped Merrill's hand in turn, simply meeting the elf's gaze with her own. Unlike so many times before, she didn't look away, she blushed more, but she didn't avert her eyes. It made Hawke smile inward and outward. It was at times like this that she was left to wonder...

They had lost track of time, and it appeared dusk was upon the City of Chains.

"Seems those writers will have to wait until tomorrow. And likely you should go take an account of everything that was stolen from your home while you where here." Hawke said as she slowly stood. "I could walk you home if you like."

Merrill nodded a few times as she stood, petting Duncan a few times as he rose to see them off. "It'd be nice, thank you, Hawke." she replied and turned toward the foyer. She felt Hawke's rough hand slide over her own, taking a hold of it. She blushed for a moment and looked sideways at the grinning woman. She smiled somewhat herself and closed her fingers over Hawke's. The walk itself, was uneventful, which was a surprise to both, since Hawke was still in her finery with naught a weapon in hand. Apparently her reputation as the Bane of all Evil had finally paid off. Though as luck would have it, rain would begin to pelt the city of Kirkwall at the very instant they reached Merrill's door.

"I should have known." Hawke sighed exasperatedly and looked at the shower, certain it would turn much of the Alienage's unpaved ground to muck for a long while.

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I should have gone by myself." Merrill said, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. "Well...you could stay here, if you like, just until the rain stops. Or I could give you a coat...but it might have rats in it."

Hawke looked between the door to Merrill's hovel , then to the rain and back, pretending to ponder for a long moment. "I'll take my chances with you and your furry friends, I think." she said at last, grinning at Merrill and waiting for her to open the rotted bundle of planks that was her door. They stepped inside, and where greeted by air colder than outside.

"Dear, Maker...Merrill, when are you finally going to move out of here? You deserve better." Hawke said, inspecting the inside of the hovel critically.

"Oh, please, now you sound just like Isabella...only you don't call me Kitten, by the way, why does she call me kitten? I don't purr when I sleep, do I?" Merrill asked, tilting her head.

"I'm not sure, really, but it's the nice kind of nickname. She's got a soft-spot for you." Hawke replied as Merrill led her to the small round table, and the weathered chairs around it. She sat, cringing a bit warily at the loud creaking noise the chair croaked out.

"Oh, I know. She keeps telling me I deserve better. Sometimes she says I deserve "better than her" too. She's...tricky." Merrill scratched the back of her neck idly.

Hawke leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. "She's a good friend, gets into more trouble than she should, but I wouldn't give her up." she said, starting to count out the holes in the ceiling, wondering if the roof would collapse on them from the rain in it's withered state.

Merrill sat quietly for a long moment, nibbling on her lower lip uneasily before she spoke. "She said...you two once made love." she said and tried to find a stain on the table interesting.

Hawke looked straight ahead for a while, mulling over an answer in her head, it made her feel oddly bad about herself to speak of it to Merrill. "We...didn't "make love", exactly. I'm certain she didn't put it that way." she licked her lips, furrowing her brow before continuing "We've slept together, once or twice, but it was never about love. It was just...necessary. Neither of us really have that many honest admirers and I'm...too picky, when it comes to love. She is a friend, a dear one, someone I trust and well...sometimes you just want the warmth of someone else against you when you wake up."

Merrill nodded a few times, she understood, Isabella had explained it to her before. "So um..." she started testily "You like girls rather than men?"

Hawke chuckled lightly at that and smiled "I wouldn't exactly call Isabella a "girl" per say. But yes, I suppose I do like women more. Sets a rather poor precedent for a noblewoman, though, no heirs and such." she shrugged simply.

"Oh..I see." Merrill nodded along, jotting down information in her mind "So..what do you like in a girl?" she asked bashfully.

Hawke looked amusedly at Merrill, she smirked, she thought she'd play along. "Well , for one, I like a little paler skin, it's easy to get lost in all of Isabella's dark flesh." she watched Merrill blush with cruel, mental glee "Then there's the eyes, I like green eyes, big, cute green eyes. Then there's tattoos, to die for, I'd say. And finally, ears...for some reason I find pointed ears very...very sexy. And I prefer them a little less curvaceous, 'Bella's are a bit too curvy for me." she added a playful tone to her voice, wondering just how much she could tease out of Merrill. "Why do you ask, Merrill? Planning on setting me up with a fair maiden or two?"

"Oh, no.." Merrill looked quite hopeful at that point, as she fit into all of the things Hawke mentioned. "I know that voice, Hawke, I know you know."

Hawke smiled warmly at the elf "And what do you expect me to know, Merrill?"

Merrill stood, her hands fidgeting as she leaned against the wall, turning her back to Hawke. "A young, exiled elf, alone and confused in a city full of danger, she's brought there by a kind warrior, who looks after her always, who's taken blows for her, who saved her soul..." she turned back around to face Hawke, who was patiently leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin nestled in her palms. "How could she not fall for her warrior? What I'm trying to say, Hawke...Marian...is-" she was interrupted by said Hawke raising her hand.

The elf watched the woman stand, and slowly walk around the table and stop before her. Merrill saw a frown set on Hawke's face, and her hopes began dwindling. The other woman took her fidgeting hands in her own, steady ones and held them affectionately.

"A young, fleeing refugee, finds herself in a foreign land, with little but the clothes on her back. She looses the few, dearest loved ones she arrived with, and has lost loved ones before. She meets many strange people, among which a cunning dwarf, and a mage with a very strange dual personality. But then, she meets the exile, and befriends her, eventually she falls for her. She does her best to keep her safe, but she's afraid. Afraid to become close, lest she loose her as well. How could, this refugee, when all she deals is death?" Hawke finished morbidly, frowning sadly at the elf before her.

Merrill looked at her with a pained, but resolute expression. "I wont let you do this to yourself, Hawke. We've lived through so much, together, we've survived things few others ever could. I...I refuse to be alone, even if it means my death...I refuse to live without you, Hawke."

Even the Champion was surprised at the honesty in Merrill's words, she heaved a heavy sigh. She was so full of doubts, but she was also holding a desire within. A desire for companionship, for love. She had gone seven whole years without so much as being courted, at least, successfully. She took risks often, but she feared to risk the life of the one person she most desired. But then, she thought. What would stop her? The Chantry? The Templars? The Nobility of Kirkwall?

"Merrill." she said in a steady voice, looking into the other's eyes "The noblemen in Kirkwall will be at an uproar. There's no telling how the citizens will react. And if the Templars catch wind of it, we'll have an army to face." at that point, Merrill looked as if she'd already been denied "But...my father had all of these things on his tail when he met mother and it didn't stop him. I will not let them stand in my way either. You, Merrill. You are mine." by then the poor elf looked confused beyond measure. "What I'm trying to say, Merrill...is...I love you, too."

"Ma vhenan." was the single murmur that escaped Merrill's lips as she freed her hands from Hawke's grasp and threw them around the taller woman , pulling her tightly against herself. She nestled her cheek on Hawke's shoulder as the embrace was reciprocated. It seemed nothing could spoil this moment...until a large, cold raindrop found it's way into the collar of Hawke's shirt at the back of her neck, she jumped slightly at the sudden cold in her back, pulling Merrill along with her and losing balance. They found themselves on the dusty floor of Merrill's home, the host on top of the guest.

They broke into a fit of laughter, and Hawke was the first to speak. "Just our luck, hm? Where were we?" she once again, faked her deep-in-thought expression, earning a giggle from the elf on top of her.

"Let me remind you, ma vhenan." Merrill spoke in a happy voice, and leaned down, closing her eyes and parting her lips, giggling in excitement on the way. She was met half-way by an eager human, though, having never kissed another before, Merrill left Hawke to lead the way in the kiss.

What followed only came naturally, the shared affections restrained up until this fateful day. Six years of admiration, hidden behind shyness, and worry. Hidden by the threat danger poses. Theirs was not a life suited to relationships such as they had embraced that night, but who could tell them to do otherwise? They took it all in slowly, patiently as was proper, and while the rickety bed in Merrill's bedroom was certainly not the most romantic place to spend the night with loved ones, they would make the most of it, and revel in the joys of their newly confessed love for hours to come.

Though, it would only be yet another delay. Eventually, fate would catch up to them.

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><p>Author's Note: I don't do lemons, believe me, it's better that way. Also, I am well aware that some things might not exactly be one-to-one in detail with the Original Campaign of Dragon Age 2, some things I'll change so they suit the storyline, others I'll check up in my saves to make them correct.<p>

Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it so far. As I keep track of the traffic on this particular fic, I am feeling in a positive mood as by my standarts the number of visitors and hits are pretty high.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I regret nothing! *shakes fist*

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><p>Humans are imperfect beings, elves hold just as many imperfections. Hawke knew she risked much by opening herself this way to Merrill. She would lose standing with the nobility for taking an elf as her lover, even more so for her being a woman herself. Should Merrill's magic be revealed, she would face much more difficult odds than the Templars alone. And with the storm brewing in Kirkwall, Hawke knew there would be much danger, more than she'd ever faced and either of them could lose their lives in the blink of an eye. But humans are imperfect, so she chose what she wanted, rather than what was safe for them both. She was still debating whether or not she'd done the right thing for Merrill, however. Though...laying under the old sheets of the stiff bed, her nude body pressed against a slumbering elf's back and her arm curled around the other woman's waist, Hawke could do naught but accept that it felt right. She smiled at the sleeping Merrill in her arms and leaned over her to place a kiss on her cheek. The elf stirred in her sleep.<p>

With a light groan and eyes-a-flutter, Merrill slowly took in where she was. She was at home, her bed as uncomfortable as ever, her hovel dirty and damp after the long rainy night. She felt eyes on her, and a comfortable warmth behind her, she felt smooth skin. Merrill slowly turned about as she lay, she sighed softly as she felt the sheets brushing over her bare skin as she turned. Bare? She was nude, she never slept completely nude. She opened her eyes and opened them wider when she saw the piercing warmth of two blue orbs staring back at her. Her eyes rested on the others before she noted the red flesh beneath them, that all-too familiar scar.

"Creators...Hawke..." she began shakily, stammering as a deep blush set on her cheeks as what had happened dawned on her and she recalled the night. "I...I had only had dreams of this happening, you know. If this isn't a dream too, I mean."

Hawke pinched Merrill's bare side, earning a soft yelp from the elf. "No, you're not dreaming." she grinned at the elf in her arms "You've had dreams about me, have you? I hope I didn't disappoint your fantasies." she giggled sweetly, leaning forth and placing a gentle kiss on Merrill's forehead.

Merrill felt herself smiling widely, she was happy, elated even. "No, ma vhenan, you did not." she reached out beneath the sheets, sliding her open hands along Hawke's sides, recalling the heated moments she had spent admiring her body through intimate, if a bit clumsy caresses. "Nothing I imagined would be so wonderful...not that I'd know, I mean...I haven't had anything to compare to."

Hawke raised her eye-brows somewhat, then her smile grew even further. "Really, now? That's so cute, Merrill." she pulled the elf tightly, pressing her body with hers "I must be the luckiest human on Thedas, then." she mused, nuzzling Merrill's nose affectionately.

It earned Hawke a soft giggle from the other woman, who was simply content enough to snuggle into her new lover's embrace. "Oh, Hawke..." she spoke softly and closed her eyes once more, her face nestled neatly at the base of Hawke's neck.

Far from the neglected Alienage, the Viscount's keep stood ever-proud, towering over the rest of Kirkwall. In one of it's courtyards, set aside for the guard barracks, several fresh recruits and veteran guardsmen trained in swordplay and archery. However among the uniform-clad guards, one figure stood out. A man with a grim expression, a large sword resting on the flat of it's blade against his shoulder, held by a gauntleted hand. His pale-green eyes glowered at a line of recruits before him, as only the best of drill-sergeants could. He brushed back his oddly white hair, revealing the pointed tips of his ears. He appeared strangely rugged and athletic, a lot more than your average city-elf. He inspected each of the young guardsmen with precise scrutiny. Most of them where fit, though he noted one shorter looking guardswoman. She looked unimposing for the most part, which wasn't really what one looked for in a guard, but he had learned by now not to judge too quickly.

"'Ten-shun!" hollered one of the senior guards who was standing a ways to the side as a woman clad in a more decorated suit of armor approached the line of eight recruits. They all did as instructed, standing to attention in the presence of an officer, none other than the captain of the guard.

She was a tall woman, her face had the sharp lines of a Fereldan, and her gait had all the signs of a disciplined soldier, though her eyes did not appear as those of a jaded warrior. They observed the nine men before her as she approached, resting on the one guardswoman in the line for a few moments longer. She sighed and sweeped back her long, rufous hair, securing it in a tight ponytail. She stopped next to the elf.

"At ease." she spoke and looked them over silently, before continuing "It is no secret that there has been much unrest in Kirkwall lately and while the templars outnumber the guard, they are too occupied with their own duties to aid us in enforcing the law. That is why I have arranged for outside help in your training." she declared and nodded to Fenris once "I expect you all to follow his instructions to the letter."

"Yes, Captain!" the recruits declared in one voice and saluted, before standing at ease again.

Fenris sighed quietly and muttered to the woman next to him. "You know I'm not good at introductions with so many people, Aveline." He looked at her with his typical annoyed scowl, only to be met with a brief smile.

"You'll manage, besides, you owe me." the woman replied in a hushed town in turn, before she walked behind him and continued onward to another duty, the senior officer followed her, leaving the elf with the recruits.

He sighed and rubbed his face with the leather padding over his palm where the straps secured the gauntlet to his arm. "Very well..." he muttered and looked up at the guards.

"My name is Fenris, due to your forces being undermanned, I will be teaching you proper martial techniques with maces, axes and swords. I have no rank so you needn't address me as anything but..." he stopped for a moment, mulling over his sentence "well...Fenris." he cleared his throat and continued "Your training will be done in pairs, and it will be difficult, painful, but rewarding. Anyone who wants to save himself the hard-road to success is free to leave right now." he recited.

A certain crossbow-wielding dwarf had helped him with what to say in front of his trainees before he had arrived. He looked pointedly at the shorter guardswoman, though none of the recruits backed away. He nodded a few times.

"Very well. You will begin with ten laps around the courtyard, armor in tow. You start here, in a single file, and finish here. Go." he said , waving them off. The recruits looked between each other for a few tense moments, before they noted the glare the elf was giving them. They began their laps quite soon after that. Fenris heaved a heavy sigh, and lowered the edge of the two-hander on his shoulder, he placed it between two of the neatly fitted cobbles on the ground. He rested his weight on the dwarven-made weapon and awaited. He gave encouraging glowers to the guards as they passed by him each lap. Varric had told him it was something all "drill-sergeants" did.

Eventually, they had finished their ten laps, luckily the day was cloudy, and the sky was stark white, with a few darker clouds scattered across it. It was high-noon by now and the sun would've been more than these young men...and woman would handle. Even now, they where out of breath, doubled over and catching their breaths. Fenris only watched them for a long moment before he raised the sword back onto his shoulder and stood straight before them.

"When you pursue a criminal through the streets, you have to get used to running in those suits." he said simply, then stepped forward "Which one of you is most skilled at arms?" he asked, looking them all over. He noticed the guardswoman shrink a bit, trying to hide behind one of the men. He didn't bother showing he'd noticed it as a young man approached him.

"That would be me, sir." he declared and saluted, earning a heavy sigh from Fenris.

"That would be me...Fenris." he corrected. "Draw your weapon. I'll see for myself who needs pairing with whom." he spoke in his deep voice as always, taking a few steps back, not turning his back to the young man, however and gripped the dwarven-forged two-hander in both hands.

The young man seemed taken aback for a moment, however he quickly unsheathed the sword at his hip, and gripped the shield in hand. Both men looked at each other for a long moment, the rest of the recruits took steps away to give them room. Many of the guards in the courtyard had stopped their own drills to look at them. The young man before Fenris was uneasy with the attention. The elf on the other hand, was simply annoyed. Fenris didn't wait long for the lad to prepare himself, he lunged toward the recruit, raising the two-hander for an overhead slash. Deciding to try and stand his ground, the recruit raised the metal shield to meet the blow, though surprise hit him harder than the blade hit the shield as he was nearly thrown back by the force of the blow. The elf certainly knew how to hit hard. He had no time to get his bearings, however, as he saw Fenris coming at him again, this time swinging from the left. The recruit gripped his sword tightly and tried to parry. The swords met with a deafening clang , followed by the clatter of metal on stone. The recruit had dropped his weapon.

Fenris held the edge of the two-hander pointing at the young man's face, before he slung it by the flat on his shoulder again."You held it too tightly." he said simply and started walking back toward the line. The rest of the guards in the courtyard soon resumed their practice as well. The young recruit gathered his weapon and hurried back to the line in front of Fenris. He was met with a few chiding remarks from his fellows.

"Do not laugh, learn from his mistake." Fenris silenced them swiftly "He held his weapon too tightly, that made the force of my blow move into his arm. You have to let the weapon take the brunt of such blows, not yourself." he explained, then he looked over each of them, he saw them nod along to his words. He smiled only slighty. "Alright...who is next?" he asked tapping the two-hander on his shoulder a few times.

The rest of the day passed in grueling training the sort of which only a broody elf like Fenris could dream up. By nightfall, all eight of them where struggling to stand. Fenris was not the type of instructor to watch his trainees work. He had out-done them in every single lesson. The rest of the guardsmen had long since left, much to the dismay of the recruits. The elf looked them over with the same scrutiny as he had earlier that day.

"You're all free to go." he spoke quietly and turned to watch the moon. The elf had little to do these days, but take pleasure in the simple things. Over the years, Hawke had taught him how to read, which had certainly served to lift his spirits, he had learned so many things he knew nothing of before. It was a silly, even embarrassing thing, but he was grateful nonetheless. He heard the clutter of mailed boots on the stone as the recruits made their way out of the courtyard into the barracks, likely to change out of their armor. He felt eyes upon him, however. He slowly turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. The guardswoman from before was still there, standing to attention.

"Did you not hear me? You can leave, your training for today is over." he repeated, sounding more perplexed than annoyed.

The guardswoman raised her hands and took off her helm. She held it under her arm. Fenris kept his eyes on it, before he looked up. He squinted his eyes to see in the dark, and indeed, the visage of the young elven woman beneath the helm was undoubtedly familiar. He stepped closer involuntarily, taking in more details of her face. He recalled it being full off worry, bruised, yet holding naught but care for others. Now it was more mature. He could still see the warmth in the woman's eyes, but there was also a determination within them as well. It slowly dawned on him. It was Lia. Fenris recalled Kelder, how he crushed his heart. Lia looked tired, but determination was still flaring in her intent gaze.

"I want to learn more, serah Fenris." she spoke, her voice sounded firmer than the child's melody he had heard. "Please, show me how."

Fenris sighed, he had seen that stare, and heard that voice somewhere before. So many times. Who other than Hawke could sound so final in their demands ? It seemed it was a more literal meaning, that Lia had taken after Hawke. He thought over his answer for a long while. She had performed admirably during their practices. She wasn't as strong as the men, but she was quicker on her feet, more nimble, she learned fast. He rubbed his chin, unintentionally tracing one of his markings. He sighed heavily and looked up at her. She was staring at him anxiously.

"You're exhausted. If you do not rest, your body will not be able to catch up." he answered curtly, he had anticipated her to decline. She shook her head in denial and repeated her demand. Fenris felt himself smiling somewhat, he had to respect such stubbornness. "Hm..." he pretended to consider for a long moment, hiding his smirk behind his hand. He mentally laughed, Hawke really was rubbing off on him. "Tommorrow. Rest now, we'll see what we can do, if you're not so tired then." he answered in what he hoped was a diplomatic way.

The woman slowly conceded to his terms, and she nodded curtly, turning toward the barracks, but stopping half-way. "Serah Fenris." she spoke, looking over her shoulder vaguely. Fenris lofted a brow somewhat at that. "Thank you for what you did those years ago." she walked on without turning back again.

She lived in the Alienage, Fenris knew. Merrill was with them when it happened. She could've learned of his part from her. He sighed heavily, looking up to gaze at the moon again. Sometimes he grew weary of all this fighting. All the killing. Being thanked for killing someone would've once meant nothing to him, but now...Hawke had changed him more than he knew still. Maybe she was right. Maybe there comes a time when the death must stop. He chuckled softly, the deep melody resounding around the courtyard as it lay empty. Such thoughts sounded so melancholy in his mind, he thought. Time to head back to the mansion, he thought. It occured to him, suddenly, that he had not tidied up the place ever since he got it. He wasn't that exhausted...what where six years of gathered dust?

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><p>Author's Note: I want to thank all 483 people who've taken the time to read this story so far. Keep checking for updates as it goes. There will be stuff that would make DA fans nostalgic, and enough action for the more active reader ;)<p>

'Till then, hope you enjoy what I've done so far.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Owe nothing!

Author's Note: Pardon my tardiness, needed some inspiration.

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><p>The turmoil within a human being's soul is ever-present. It tests the certainty of his personality, be it for good or ill. The wicked are tempted to be righteous and vice versa, however, those certain enough that wickedness or righteousness are the correct paths in life are nearly impossible to sway. However life has many more nuances than just righteousness and wickedness, good and evil. What happens when two minds, considered good in their own right, with different perspectives, are forced to think as one? Opinions are mixed, and beliefs are warped, leaving a twisted version of what once was. A being racked by a state of near-madness..this is what the mage Anders and a lone spirit of Justice must endure.<p>

An apostate with a penchant for fleeing from the Circle, with a preference for lewd remarks and a chaotic disposition merged with the gallant, stranded warrior for the powers of justice. The apostate's burning desire for freedom and hatred for oppression, merged with the spirit's inhuman determination became a lethal combination. The seething desire for retribution left in the wake of this union would end the lives of many, of varying degrees of guilt. In truth, this lone mage was full of questions that struck deep into his very soul. Anders, the mage in question often doubted who he was. He hated what some templar do to mages, but he could not be sure whether or not it was he who would've wanted punishment for them, or the spirit he had bonded with. The answer was neither. It was the new being that had come into existence after their merging. It did not take Anders long to realise that they where now one and the same.

A part of Anders felt guilty for what he thought he had to do, another part was certain without a doubt. However, six years of fighting beside a true Champion, had made his doubts stronger. He had thought a revolution was what the world needed, what mages needed. The merciful warrior he followed had shown him another way. A way he would trade everything to walk upon. But Vengeance demands action, and most importantly: punishment. He had no choice. To achieve his ambition, he would carry out Vengeance's will.

It was this grim determination that would bring Anders such feelings of melancholy, as he sat, for the first time in a long while, alone in his clinic. He looked at yet another copy of his manifesto and sighed. It would not get through. He looked away, and saw his old cat, Sir Pounce-a-lot sleeping soundly in the little bed of pillows he had made. He wasn't the little tabby kitten the Hero of Ferelden, Lyna Mahariel had gifted him. He was an aging tomcat, and Anders felt old as well. At times he grew weary of being the herald for the mages' plight, wishing he was back in Ferelden, with the Grey Wardens, and more importantly, Mahariel. He never wondered to ask of Mahariel, during the time he spent in Vigil's keep. Though he would notice at times, the weary look in the elven woman's eyes, and not only he. He recalled clearly, one night at the keep with Oghren the dwarven Warden.

_"'Ey, tell your mewling extra-rations not to sleep in my chair." he recalled hearing the dwarf's booming and grizzled voice "Next time I wont check before I sit."_

_He opted for ignoring the dwarf this time, only bothering to lean down as he sat in his chair , and lift the mewling kitten into his lap, where he would proceed to pet it absently. The dwarf was still there, though. Anders felt his gaze linger. _

_"What, do I have something on my face?" he relented and turned to the dwarf with those words, earning a grin from the red-haired warrior. The young apostate watched the dwarf take his time settling into one of the chairs around the empty dining table. _

_"Oh, s'nothin'." the dwarf started, letting out a relatively small belch "S'just I've been seein' you taking glances at our new Commander." _

_Anders rolled his eyes at that. "I don't see how it's any of your busine-" he was suddenly cut off by Oghren in a particularly commanding tone he had never heard the dwarf use. _

_"Listen carefully, lick-spittle. The Commander's been through heaps o' shyte. I should know, I was there with her all the sodding way." Oghren grunts and reaches out for a tankard on the table, only half-way finished. He takes a generous swig "If you wanna stay here, and not out there." the dwarf nodded vaguely toward the countryside outside of a nearby window "With the templars, you'd better get your sodding robes tightened, 'cause that woman's got a lot more on her shoulders'n you can imagine. She doesn't need some dust-addled nug-humping mage on her mind as well..." the dwarf hiccupped then. _

_Anders wasn't sure whether or not to believe the dwarf's tirade. Seeing how he was obviously drunk, he had already decided to dismiss the whole thing. _

_"On the other hand..." the dwarf continued after a long pause, standing and grabbing another nearly finished tankard on the way "She's taken." _

_That had caught Anders attention, and he suddenly stopped petting sir Pounce-a-lot, earning a few pats from a padded paw against his hand. He looked at the dwarf, trying to discern whether or not he was lying. _

_"By whom?" he asked, when he couldn't get an answer with just a stare. _

_Oghren chortled in amusement, finishing off both tankards one by one, then giving a proud belch. He sniggered to himself for a long moment before simply walking away. _

Anders musings where disturbed by the door of his clinic being kicked open. His every sense came to full awareness and he channeled mana into his hands, as his staff was too far away to reach. He expected it all, the clutter of mailed boots on the dirty floor of his clinic, the shine of the sun-shields and the glint of polished steel. But none of that followed, and moments later, a familiar shape casually, with the usual sensual sway in her gait, walked into the mage's domain. Pearly white teeth glinted out at him, in contrast to her dark skin.

"Hey, Anders, care to help old Isabella with a little problem?" the woman asked with a playful tone, earning an exasperated sigh from the healer.

"I thought you where a templar, I could've roasted you on the spot...again." Anders muttered. "Don't tell me...another one of THOSE diseases, is it? This is..what, the tenth time? Or was it the fifteenth?" he added chidingly.

The retired pirate rolled her eyes with an annoyed look on her face. "Just do your thing, already."

Anders chuckled lightly at that, and motioned to his make-shift operating table. "Always." he said with a smile, and proceeded to discharge the mana stored in his hands into a more productive form, into the woman lying on his table.

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><p>Mini-Chapter up.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Pardon the delay, folks. Now lets do this! *puts on sunglasses* YEEEAAAHHH!

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><p>The creak of old, worn wood. The fall of drops in a bucket. The crackling of a weak fire. The rough feel of sheets on her bare skin. Slowly, but surely, the sounds and memories of what had transpired returned to the groggy mind of an awakening Hawke. She blinked several times, and took in her surroundings with more clarity. She recalled this room, it was Merrill's and this was her bed. She looked infront of herself as she lay still, she saw the tussled strands of dark hair before her, and leaning forward, she sighed at the feel of bare, warm skin against her own. She reached out, her hand wrapped neatly around the sleeping elf's waist and pulled her closer. Hawke nuzzled her nose into Merrill's hair, now unrestrained by plaits. The human sighed and simply relaxed, intent on waiting for the other woman to awaken on her own.<p>

It was not too long before the elf stirred, at first, sleepily snuggling into the comfortable warmth of the body behind her. She took her time in turning about to face her new lover. When she did, she was met with a radiant smile, loving and thoughtful, she felt the other's hand play with her hair idly.

"Hey, you." Hawke started and tilted her head, she placed a kiss on Merrill's forehead "Sleep well?" she inquired, a single brow lofted.

The elf remained silent for a long moment, simply returning the embrace Hawke still held her in. "Like a da'len babe, ma vhenan." she spoke softly.

The two remained in the rickety bed for a long while, exchanging caresses and kisses, unwilling to arise from the haven of Merrill's old blankets. However, time flew, and it was time to get up, and start the day. There where many things that needed to be done.

"I wonder what earth-shattering matter will need my attention today." Hawke mused as she clothed herself, eyes drifting into the walls absently, into the depths of thought. Words, awkwardly blurted out behind her jarred her from her thoughts.

"I love you." Merrill had said in an apprehensive fashion, wrapped up in her blanket and blushing a rosy hue.

Hawke looked over her shoulder at that, as she adjusted the finery with the Amells' crest embroidered on her sleeve. She looked at Merrill for a long moment, and dark thoughts, as they always did, crept seamlessly into her mind. Again, doubt plagued her in this instant. The nobility, the dangers they faced, the dawning hostility between templar and mage: it all screamed in the weary warrior's head, that this was a mistake, that she should have done the sensible thing and pushed Merrill away. She felt a sad frown dominate her features too late, she saw it mirrored in Merrill's visage. She saw the elf look away, eyes seeming to glint to the scant flame of the fireplace nearby, they where beginning to tear up.

"You don't have to say anything." Merrill started, her voice shaky "We don't need to bring this up again."

Hawke heaved a heavy sigh, and stood. She slowly walked around the narrow bed and sat at Merrill's side, reaching over and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She thought over her words in silence, before she took a deep breath.

"No, Merrill. I have to say this." she took the elf's chin in her hand and turned to face her "So many things are uncertain. But for better, or worse, you need to know..." she felt herself smiling widely at that point "That I love you right back." she watched Merrill's features brighten, making her own do so in turn. Hawke closed her eyes as she felt slender arms curl around her neck, and tender lips press against her own. "Crisis averted." she thought.

They remained so for a long while, though not as long as they would have wanted. Letters needed answering, and she was more than a little curious by now, who exactly these "biographers" were and where exactly they where getting their information. Insisting that they walk hand-in-hand, Hawke earned herself numerous glances from elves and humans in Lowtown, though much more interest from the nobles within Hightown, where open stares where abound and whispers accompanied the usual sounds of haggling in the market.

As Hawke casually strolled through the cobbled streets, she noted Merrill's increasing nervousness. She squeezed the hand she held in her own and gave her a reassuring smile as they continued their walk, less concerned of the prying eyes of the high-born and occasionally, their serfs. They stood before the Amell estate, the shields bearing the crest proudly hung over the front door, coupled with the sign "Beware of Mabari". She stepped ahead and opened the hardy wooden door, bound in iron. She led Merrill into the wide expanse of the foyer, which was easily almost as spacious as the pariah's living room. She had come to visit before, but there was something different about this visit.

Merrill had stopped half-way in the middle of the foyer, making her hostess turn to face her. She saw a smile she rarely saw on the young Hawke's features.

"You know...it occured to me that to scandalize the neighbors with my elven lover, she'd have to live with me, no?" Hawke asked in an unassuming voice, crossing the distance between her and the ever-blushing elf and took her hand, leading her deeper within the expanse of the estate. "You can live here now, Merrill. No more rats, no more holes in the ceiling, no more thieves. Just you and me." the scion of the dying Amells continued as she led Merrill up stairs and through corridors. "And Bodahn, Sandal and Duncan, of course, but..." Hawke stopped before one particular room, and led the elf within.

It was a luxurious bedroom, with a queen-sized bed with flowing, silken curtains decorated with intricate designs, wardrobes and vanities made of polished wood each holding a different picture, carved into it as relief. Windmills, vast plains and cascading hills passed from image to image in every piece of furniture in this extravagant chamber. Several fine and soft carpets covered the expensive floor-tiles

Merrill had never been in this room, and she was simply enthralled. She knew Hawke was wealthy, but she had never imagined everything would be perfect.

"It's all so...pretty." she giggled excitedly, afraid to touch anything, lest it disappear before her.

"And much to the dismay of countless others, you're the only one who'll get to sleep in here with me, from now on." Hawke's reply came, as she leaned against the wide-open door.

She couldn't help but let a grin spread across her face at the puzzled expression Merrill had.

"You're going to live with me, Merrill." she stated with an odd mix of affection and certainty that denied all protest. Within moments, the young noblewoman had embraced her lover once more. "You've been through much, with the Eluvian...the Keeper's death, your tribe banishing you. You've grown, and you've become wiser after what has happenned."

Hawke spoke in a hushed, soft tone as she found her hand stroking Merrill's cheek.

"You deserve to be happy. And if you're going to be with me, you're going to be spoiled in any way possible." Hawke finished with a wry smile.

Merrill was smiling. It was that silly kind of smile, that sometimes people made, after their first kiss. Hawke had taught her so many things. How not to give in, and how to look to the future, rather than the past. She was her closest friend, she had trusted her with so many secrets, so many things. She learned much from this shemlen woman. More than she could ever learn from the demon, or the eluvian, or even from the Keeper. And now she would learn what it is to be loved.

"Ma vhenan" she started "I don't deserve you."

"I'll be having none of that." Hawke replied in a tentatively stern voice "I think someone needs to be reminded of what they're due."

Merrill felt strong arms pulling her in the bed's direction...

_It is such idle pleasures that drive most people. But Marian Hawke was not destined to be like most people. She had faced many horrors in the many years she had spent in Kirkwall. Demonic, unnatural. Through the force of her will, her fortitude and the aid of similar individuals, they had all fallen. However, the echoes of their deathly cries did not go unheard. But the listeners where not brash, they where wary, uncertain. It took the death of one of their own, chained for decades, to stir them at last. They had felt the chaos in the archon's thoughts as he awoke. And then suddenly, they had ceased with one last desperate cry of disbelief. They felt the blood of the Hawke, a mortal name, one which they did not fear, but craved. They yearned for the power within this mortal shell. Untapped, hidden, yet still palpable. Marian had not uncovered all of Kirkwall's dark secrets, there where two more left to find. And if they could help it, they would become three._

Marian stirred from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes and stretched under the tangled sheets. She groaned as her hands searched the length of the bed blindly to no avail, so she opened her eyes, and found she was alone in bed. She muttered her displeasure and stood from the bed, wrapping herself in the sheets. Her groggy eyes scanned the room. The bed was a mess, her clothes where left neatly folded up on her armoire. She caught a glimpse of Merrill's green scarf, left on top of her clothes. She took it and ran her hands through it slowly. It seemed like it had gone through quite a bit. It had a few singes here and there, it was sewn back together many times, but it was still the same one Merrill was wearing six years ago.

"That girl needs some new clothes." She mused to herself.

Hawke held the sheets around herself, holding the scarf in hand as well. She opened her bedroom door with a shove. Merrill was there, dressed and leaning against the railing overlooking the living-room. The champion smirked to herself and slowly made her way behind the elf, holding the sheets spread apart , and the scarf in her hands. Merrill likely knew she was there, still, she indulged her.

The elf had been lost in her thoughts as she watched Bodahn clean the house and set letters neatly on Hawke's writing desk, Sandal playing with the mabari. She heard bare footsteps behind herself and she smiled somewhat, a rosy hue creeping to her cheeks as her mind thought of what her eyes couldn't see. Merrill felt the touch of a familiar fabric, and two more she had only recently become aquainted with. Warmth, both from the sheets and Hawke's body washed over her and she felt herself blushing further.

"Ma vhenan." Merrill murmured and looked to her side as Hawke settled her chin on the elf's shoulder.

"Yes, Merrill?" came the reply.

"I can't believe how many letters you get. How do you ever get to reading them all? The only ones I've gotten are from you and the others. And something about standing staffs...what does that mean anyway, why should I be ashamed of it?" Merrill trailed off at the sound of Marian's giggling. "I'm rambling again, sorry."

"Oh, I don't think either of us ever have to worry about our staffs not standing properly." Hawke jibed and looked down at her writing desk from above. The black letter was still there, along with three more. She could see the seal of the Templar Order stamped on the large wax seal of the letter. "This should be interesting. And if I've learned anything, it's that everyone wants to waste my time with tasks that need bloody skill." she thought "I'll have to go out in a bit, Merrill, will you wait for me here 'till I get back? Could be anywhere from a few minutes to several hours that I'll be gone." She inquired as she craned her neck to look at Merrill.

"Of course, Hawke. I'll be here when you get back. Don't keep me waiting , though." the elf added with a smile.

"I'll make every attempt not to." Hawke replied wryly and slipped away, however, leaving the blanket she had taken with Merrill, imagining the blush on the elf's features as she swaggered back to her room completely in the nude. Minutes later, she had re-emerged, suited with steel-plate vambraces, connected to a steel chest-plate, down with gaitlers and sabatons protecting her legs. She held a helmet under her arm. The whole ensemble was pristine, and top-quality, bearing the stamp of a seasoned craftsman, and having been infused with further improvements by Sandal's enchanting skills. She winked to the dazed elf in passing.

"Lets see what the great knight commander wants..." she thought aloud and takes the letter, cutting it open with the clawed metal armor on her gauntlets. "Of course...my presence and my canny ability to cut things, thereof are requested." she sighed and put the letter away, turning on her heel and heading to the door. Bodahn walked up dutifully, handing her a strangely elegant two-hander. It took more skill to wield than most other weapons of it's type, rather than raw power. It was etched and embossed with swirling depictions of thorny vines, along the length of it's blade. At the cross-guard, lay the rune made of the idol piece. A dark weapon, to be sure, but used for a good purpose, Hawke usually calmed her worries over the rune with that. She nodded in appreciation to Bodahn, who bid his head and went off to do his work...which was usually all the work in the house, when Hawke was away.

"Now...who to take with me...?" Hawke considered as she shut the door behind herself.


	7. Chapter 7

Alons-y!

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><p>Hawke took her time rounding up the team for this venture. She tended to need Varric's diplomatic mind to deal with troublesome people. Knight Commander Meredith was high on her list of headaches. She had met the woman on few, rare occasions and every time there would be conflict, with varying aggression. She figured the problem would be related to magi, so she planned on taking Anders after talking with the stubborn woman.<p>

Her steps where heavy as she headed out from the Hanged Man, the armor, despite it's many enchantments weighed on her somewhat. But with the ever-escalating hostilities in Kirkwall, she could never be too careful. She heard a most peculiar sound as she went down the steps into the bustling marketplace in Lowtown. The sound was that of a lute's strings, being masterfully plucked by an unseen musician. She had noticed that Kirkwall was hardly the most favorite venue for minstrels or bards. The mood was oft too grim for any musician to ply his trade successfully within the streets. The melody was rather cheerful, rather unfitting for the melancholy mood that often swept through the whole city. The bard's skill was considerable, however and the citizens seemed in heightened spirits because of it. She decided to look over one of the larger stands of goods. It was the trinketsmonger's shop, apparently the wizened woman had a lot of new stock to sell. The peddler of martial goods next to her, on the other hand was barely meeting demand. The people knew something dark was coming and where getting ready for it. Marian became increasingly lost in her own thoughts, until she heard the familiar voice of her dwarven friend, who had followed her out of the Hanged Man.

"I know that look, Hawke, you're worried about something." Varic said, looking at his companion with a knowing smirk. His hands were occupied with tying his long, blonde hair back out of his eyes. "Moreover I think I know what it is."

Marian cast a bemused glance toward Varic as she turned away from the goods. She reached up and rubbed at the red scar over the red scar over the bridge of her nose. A parting gift from the fallen Arishok. His enchanted weapon had grazed her skin there during their showdown at the courtyard before the gates of the Viscount's keep.

"You know me best, Varic." she started, her plated hands falling, as loosely as it was possible due to her suit, to her sides. "You feel it too, I know it. You can tell that things are going to happen, big things...bad things."

"That goes without saying, at least here in Kirkwall it does." Varic replied as he pulled the knot tightly around his tail of hair. "We'll see which way the wind will blow, but I know one thing for certain, Hawke: You're going to be in the thick of it. Some might not want to admit it, but you make things change in Kirkwall. But, we can't stand here all day discussing how you're going to shape history this time. Why don't we go and actually see just how?" Varic adjusted his leather gloves, looking at Hawke in an expectant fashion.

A smirk crept onto the warrior's lips as she silently made her way around the marketplace and up the many flights of stairs that led to Hightown.

The commonfolk in Hightown where going about their business as usual, peddling their goods or simply going about for a stroll in the brighter part of town in spite of the nobility's hatred for people clad in clothing that costs less than their weight in gold. Templars patrolled the streets and vastly outnumbered the stationed guardsmen. The tension between them was obvious, with as few as the guardsmen were, mere hundreds, people where beginning to think that they where not the real peace-keepers in the city. Most templar in the street, as Hawke noticed, marched with their chests puffed out, with wide motions of their metal-clad arms, their heads held high, confidently and arrogantly at the same time, which earned them sneers from their guardsmen counterparts.

As Varric and Marian finally surmounted the hundreds of stairs from Lowtown, the dwarf faced his long-time companion and spoke with a low, understanding tone.

"I should warn you, Hawke, word's spread already about you leading a..."elven whore" into your estate."

Marian scoffed at that, then scowled briefly.

"I should've known these whiny sots wouldn't dare come to my face with this. I'm sure some of them will have the stones to try and gloat about it." she replied with a look of disdain directed toward some of the "high-born" who had a little gathering infront of one of the shops.

"Sometimes, I think I should just return to Lowtown, at least there I'd be seeing adoration and jealousy, rather than only the latter like I do here." she continued as they continued their unrushed stride through the marketplace.

They passed by Worthy's shop, who was busying himself, arranging a vast array of intricately chiseled and designed runestones and adjusting the prominent permit that stated he was allowed by the Circle of Magi, the Chantry and the Guard to sell his wares. When he spotted the champion and her dwarven bard, he cracked a friendly smile and ushered them closer.

"Hawke, Varric! Good to see you two again, my friends!" he greeted them warmly and placed his hands on his hips "Good to see you, my friends. It's a shame such foolish things must be spoken of you on such a fine hour."

Marian smiled just slightly at the dwarven runespeddler, his cheerful demeanor had lasted all throughout the years, it never failed to lighten her mood.

"It's good to see you, too, Worthy. How's missus Worthy?" she asked, giving the runes he had on sale a quick once-over. She was no journeyman when it came to runes, but she recognized the vast part of his selection as some of the most basic runestones. Taking note of the permit that had been hung prominently on the nearby pillar, Marian realized that her friend was likely being pressured not to allow his best things to find their way to the public.

"Ah, countless blessings have been bestowed upon us, my friend! Veira is with child." Worthy announced happily, clapping his hands together. "Boisterous little thing, he or she is, kicking all the time as it is." Worthy's features soon turned to a thoughtful frown "I will have to leave Kirkwall behind in a few months, however. The city grows dangerous and I'm not speaking of law-breakers. It is this city's very own protectors that I grow wary of, my friend. Truly, dark times are upon us...and Ferelden doesn't seem to be doing well either, I am not sure where to turn to."

A puzzled look dominated Marian's features, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Truly? What is the trouble there, then?" she perked a brow.

Varric interjected at that point, appearing thoughtful himself.

"It had slipped my mind, Hawke, but I did hear of king Alistair coming to Kirkwall for a second time, he returned sooner than he liked apparently...I heard tell of a fresh scar on his face. Blade work."

The other dwarf nodded along in agreement, stepping over to adjust the permit as it had tilted to the side, crookedly.

"I heard his retainers speaking as they passed through earlier today." the merchant said, stepping behind his assortment of runes. "Something about a mage. They seemed right worried, in a hurry and all."

Marian nodded along absently. Her mind kept wandering back to the passionate night she spent with Merrill, more so on the elf in question however. She mulled over many thoughts, some optimistic, others much less so. She wanted to get away from the gossiping nobles, the oppressed mages, the evil bloodcasters and the tyrranical Meredith. She just wanted to spend some more time with one of the few loved ones she had left. Then came the dark realisation that there would be those who would use Merrill against her. The Champion's features grew grim and somehow she seemed much older, despite being in her mid-twenties.

"Now that's a look I haven't seen before, Hawke. What's wrong?" Varric's voice, accompanied by his leather-clad hand on her arm pulled Marian back to reality.

She turned her gaze down to her old friend, she shook her head somewhat, she knew putting on a fake smile wouldn't work on Varric. He knew her too well.

"You know about me and Merrill already, Varric." she started "I think it may have been a mistake." she finished, looking off in the direction of the Amell estate.

Varric laughed and patted her on the back, he stepped around to stand infront of her, snapping his fingers to draw the woman's attention back to himself. He smiled an earnest smile, one only his friends and the folks at taverns would see. The smile of a rogue, who knew he could ply his mischievous trade and knew he could do it in a way he'd get away as a hero...or at least, a certain woman would look like a hero.

"Hawke, please. You deserve-no..you need to experience at least some of the things that come with living a normal life. I know you'd be hurting yourself if you tried to push Daisy away. I know what you're really worried about though." he says, his smile fading somewhat "There is danger, that's true, but when's that ever stopped you?"

Marian rubbed her face with open hands, wearily heaving a sigh. "It's different this time, Varric. Before...the danger was always infront of me, it was always in plain view, but now...what would it take for someone to try and claim her life while she sleeps?" somehow this elicited a brief bout of laughter from the dwarf.

"You're giving Daisy less credit than she deserves, besides...not to brag, but you've got me on your side, Hawke, I know everything about the unsavory side of this city that's worth knowing, remember? If someone was planning something, I'd know and they'd be one step closer to the Maker." the dwarf smiled and patted his old friend on the back. "Come on, Hawke, we were headed somewhere, weren't we?"

Smiling only briefly, Marian nodded, she stood tall once more and made a wave of her hand to Worthy, before she headed the way she'd gone so many times before, up the hundreds of stairs that led to the Gallows. Her mood had turned more positive due to Varric's words, however fate, as always had different plans for her, plans that would maim her weary heart.

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><p>Terribly sorry I took so long, my dearest readers, however, it took a long while of thinking to figure out just where this story is headed. Believe me, I've thought long and hard and I've come up with some interesting plot twists and ideas, which I'm hoping you'll find entertaining to read, too. They're coming up in the following chapters, lads. Cheers from RvB.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Ah, and so I take an age to update, that's what I get for multitasking...and playing through several newly released games in a row .

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><p>The walk to the Gallows was, as it had always been, uneventful and grim, the latter growing heavier in the air as Marian and her dwarven companion approached the tower of Magi. The champion felt the heavy stares of the templar warriors that passed them by on their patrol and of those stationed on palisades and walls. These faceless footsoldiers, hidden in their shells of steel, most of them indoctrinated into the tenets of the order. Most, but not all.<p>

Two templar warriors had earned Hawke's respect over the years. Thrask for one, whom she admired for his burning determination, an idealist, a dreamer just like her, but also like herself, he was capable of making his dreams come true. Cullen, a man scarred by his past, yet one who has retained his humanity, he had become one of Hawke's few, yet truly loyal friends. Marian recalled clearly, the few moments where Cullen would let his guard down for her, he would speak of his past, of the incident in the tower of Magi in Ferelden.

Vividly indeed:

**"Back then...I was fearful of my charges, the mages. And with Uldred's atrocities I felt that fear was justified. Yet...it is the deaths of those who did not bend to him that truly weigh on my heart...those and that of one other." Cullen sighed and stared long into swirling, dark liquid in his mug. His eyes closed briefly and the warrior heaved a heavy sigh, drinking deep of his mug. "Her name was Nyria. She was an elf, a novice. I was...infatuated with her, ever since she was admitted into the tower." **

**He paused briefly, shaking his head in remorse. "I was placed in charge of taking her life, had she failed the Harrowing. She didn't...but she took too long. Hours, really. Finally, I was given the order. I remember, my knees trembled and my heart ached, my hand shaking as I tried to keep from dropping my sword. I didn't know her...It's forbidden. I wish I had." Cullen drained his mug, setting it heavily on the wooden table before him. "She died by my hand. There was nothing else keeping me from doing my duty, after that. I convinced myself that I'd done the right thing, that she was dangerous...until Uldred."**

**The templar's hands balled up in fists, his calloused features forming a spiteful scowl. "When all my brothers died around me and only I was left, do you know what he told me...?" he asked a rhetorical question, seeing Hawke shake her head, he continued "He told me that Nyria...wasn't possessed...he told me that in her curiosity, she spoke with the creatures of the Fade wherever she could find them...that she was just about to leave, when I..." he paused once more, his teeth gritting as he combatted the feelings that tried to well up inside him. His shoulders sagged and in his eyes, Hawke could see, just how old all the pain he'd felt had made him.**

**"I still don't know whether or not he was lying." the warrior muttered and leaned down over the table, resting his head in his hands, which in turn were propped up by his elbows on the wooden surface. "But he knew so much about her...it was enough to renew my doubt. After that, another mage from the circle, one the Wardens conscripted at another time succeeded in freeing the survivors and bring Uldred to his death." he sighed heavily as he spoke.**

**"After that...well, I was promoted for my 'stalwart fortitude in the face of demonic seduction' and sent here." he raised his hands and his eyebrows, seemingly unsure of what else to say. "So, there you have it, Hawke. You befriend a would-be murderer." he said lastly, with a bitter smile.**

Luckily for Hawke, the final set of stairs that led up to the gates of the Gallows were long enough to accomodate this flashback of hers and she had passed along them so often now, that her legs seemed to have memorised every step and seemingly Varric wasn't feeling talkative enough to interrupt her. She stopped before the sturdy, currently lowered gate of the fortress. Directing her gaze upward she looked past the templar watchment that peered down at them. Her eyes locked upon the statues of slaves, they had always been able to unnerve her with the history they came with.

"Best wake up, Chuckles, the gentlemen up there seem to be inspecting you to **tell **them to raise the gate." Varric muttered to the side, his voice carrying over with a distinct tinge of irritation.

Marian nodded once, the nickname managed to make her smile, however. "Raise the gate, your Commander has requested my presence." she said in a neutral voice.

After a moment's pause, came a reply:

"You are the champion, lady?" it seemed like an odd question, enough to prompt the more vitriolic side of Hawke's sense of humor.

"No, I'm Meredith's she-man mistress." she said with obvious sarcasm in her tone, thumbing to the dwarf. The blank stares she could make out from above made her groan and speak again. "Yes, I am the bloody Champion and this is Varric, my companion, now would you kindly raise the gate?"

After a few short moments of deliberation, the templar went to their respective winches and started the long, arduous and loud process of raising the aforementioned gate. A few grunts and muttered cusses reached Hawke's ears as the large steel grate that barred her way was raised by the cranking mechanisms. Ignoring most of the suspicious glances she recieved on her way in, except the greeting that Cullen in particular offered her, from his post. Hawke naturally made her way to the warrior, smiling and raising her hand in a friendly greeting.

"Hawke." he started, seeming pleased to see her "It's good to see you, my friend. I'm sure you're here to see the knight commander. She's in her office, right now, that'd be the first door on the right as you go in." motioning behind himself, up a flight of stairs into the interior of the barracks.

Marian inclined her head in gratitude, smiling slightly at her friend. "Thank you, Cullen. I'll speak to you later, aye? Your commander will have someone's head if I don't see what she wants." she said, rolling her eyes somewhat.

Eliciting one of Cullen's rare bouts of laughter made the champion's own smile grow. They grasped each other's hands in a warrior's clasp, before she mounted the final flight of stairs and followed the pointed directions. She dreaded opening the door, but she heaved a sigh and did so anyway, stepping in with Varric right behind her. Within, she found Meredith, giving instructions to her tranquil secretary.

"Knight Commander Meredith." she said, drawing the templar woman's attention to herself. "You asked for me."

Turning away from the tranquil, the blond woman dismissed her emotionless secretary with a wave of her hand. She leaned forward as she sat in her chair, a comfortable piece, suited to those who had the money to spare for such things.

"So I did." she said curtly, pursing her lips at the sight of Varric. "I expect you're eager to know why."

A wry smile crept onto Marian's lips at that, she raised her hand in a defensive manner, speaking in a languid fashion, like a lazy cat that was sure it's demands would be met. "Oh, I was getting weary of everyone sending me letters to invite me to their own personal ambush, but I thought I'd give you a chance, since we're getting along so well."

Meredith scoffed. "You always insist on playing your childish word games." she said, irritated. "I asked for your presence, because I need your help with a certain matter." Marian could see the commander grinding her teeth as she stopped speaking. The champion could easily tell the other woman loathed calling on a "hero"'s aid...all the more reason to rub it in.

"Why, what could possibly be so daunting a task that you are unable to handle yourself?" she started in mock surprise "You don't need me to hook you up with someone, I hope, I fear that may be beyond even me." she finished, doing her best attempt at keeping a straight face.

Meredith slammed a mailed fist on her desk, looking at the raven-haired warrior before her with a piercing glare. "Hawke, this is not a laughing matter and while your aid would make this easier for me, harbor no illusions that I **need** it." Taking a calming, deep breath Meredith leaned back in her armchair. "I need you to investigate several cases of mages escaped from the tower, needless to say, they are suspected to have turned to darker arts. My secretary will give you the specifics, should you choose to spare us your 'invaluable skill'."

Marian did nothing to hide her snigger as she directed her glance to the tranquil secretary. "Oh, Meredith, before I accept, answer me one question." she said.

With a moment of hesitation, the templar leader furrowed her brows in a frown and motioned with her hand. "Ask.".

"Does your secretary do **anything** you tell her to?" she inquired, a sharp note to her tone that was obviously suggestive of what she indeed meant. It brought her a sick kind of joy to bring people like Meredith into a state of anger, a joy she couldn't really explain herself. It made her smirk grow when she heard the familiar sniggering of a dwarf behind her.

On her end, Meredith was scowling and glaring daggers at the champion, clenching her jaw tightly shut and simply making a decidedly curt motion to her secretary, who only now stirred from her statue-like state. Approaching the two thoroughly entertained guests in the office. The tranquil woman was once a mage of human descent, likely foreign, as her light blond hair and blue eyes suggested. She extended her hand, within which she held a sealed note.

"Oh, how formal." Hawke noted bemusedly and took the note from the eerily still woman before her.

"Hmph...feel free to read it outside of the Gallows walls, 'Champion'." were the only words Hawke waited to hear, the hint was obvious enough.

Once again walking down the steps, the champion unsealed the letter, opening it up. There were several names written, along with the places of residence of their respective relatives or contacts. It seemed to be a simple enough task, though Hawke knew from experience not to assume that. She looked to Varric, who still seemed thoroughly pleased with the turn of events.

"You really know how to grind her gears, Hawke." he commented roguishly "What do we do now, then?"

With a shrug of her shoulders, Hawke tucked the note away within a convenient pouch strapped at her side. She walked on, passing the guardsmen once more, this time, sparing any one that seemed to have turned their attention to her, a friendly wave of her hand, she was certainly in the mood to be friendly after riling up Meredith's nerves.

And yet, her instincts told her she was being watched by someone. Nine years mostly spent in combat had given her a sixth sense of sorts, one she oftentimes heeded. She looked about, focusing on the shadowed areas she could make out around herself. Her hand almost unconciously stretching out somewhat, ready to reach up and draw the elegant two-handed longsword from her back as it clinked against her armor with every step.

"I should move it to my hip." she thought, it took too much time to unsheath this way, yet she had gotten used to it by now.

She dismissed her suspicions for now, though kept a mental note of them all the same. She walked on ahead and once again, down the long and tyring trek that led back to the city proper.

"Maybe I should visit Merrill on the way." she thought as she walked, turning her head to the side, to look at the horizon. The thought of the elf gave her a pleasing tingle every time, one that was followed by a sense of dread almost every time. Marian watched the seemingly endless expanse of the sea, her eyes followed some of it's rippling tides as they crashed into each other and finally onto the harbor bellow. She thought of Ferelden, of Lothering all she was forced to leave behind so many years ago. It seemed as if dreary thoughts were all she would have to deal with today, so she simply shook her head free of the current ones, focusing on returning to town.

"So, Hawke...you're awful quiet today." Varric broke her focus.

"I'm sorry, Varric. There's just a lot on my mind." she replied in a soft tone, reaching up and rubbing the back of her neck.

"I get it." the dwarf in turn responded and for a little while, silence reigned supreme, until he forced it down once more. "Tell you what, Chuckles, I'll round up some of our folks and you can go see Daisy."

This caused the warrior beside the rogue to turn her head downward again. Silently, she walked on like this for a while, before she simply sighed and nodded. "Alright...tell them to wait an hour or so at the Hanged Man, one you gather them, most of the people we're looking for are in Lowtown anyway."

"You got it, Chuckles."


End file.
